


His Markings Ran Red

by VanHelsing019



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Dragon Age Big Bang, Fluff, M/M, Sex, Violence, dabb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:25:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanHelsing019/pseuds/VanHelsing019
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke and Fenris are on their way to Kirkwall when they run into a spot of trouble.</p><p>(I suck at summaries)</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Markings Ran Red

The sensation of strong, calloused hands gently snaking around his waist, was the first thing Hawke registered through the haziness that usually clouds his mind when he wakes in the mornings. He lay still, feigning sleep while a soft kiss was placed in the nape of his neck.

 

“I know you’re awake, Hawke,” a deep voice breathed in his ear, before its owner gave Hawke’s neck another kiss, “You’re not fooling anyone,”

 

“How do you know? I’ve been known to fool quite a lot of people,” said Hawke, placing his hand over the one resting on his hip. The faint static tingle that only happened when a mage came into contact with lyrium, tickling under Hawke’s palm. “I’m an excellent actor,” Hawke smiled, turning his head to find a pair of moss green eyes staring at him from underneath a fringe of silvery white hair.

 

“You were quiet, that’s how,” said Fenris, his mouth quirked into his usual faint smile, which had become a more regular occurrence in recent months since the clash between Kirkwall’s Circle of Magi and Templars.

 

“I’m always quiet,” Hawke frowned.

 

“Yes, when you wake up and then it’s only briefly. Before that you sound like a company of men sawing down a forest,” Fenris replied, looking up in thought, giving a nonchalant shrug.

 

“Are you implying that I snore?”

 

“Not at all. I’m TELLING you,” Fenris chuckled, leaning down to kiss away Hawke’s pout. “No come on, Hawke, time to get up, Hex is getting restless,” said Fenris, before he stood up and exited their tent.

 

Hawke listened to Hex bark happily before there was a loud thud followed by Fenris cursing in Tevene. He chuckled, searching around for a hair-tie, tying his shoulder length black hair behind his head in a neat ponytail. He would ask Fenris if he would braid it for him after breakfast.

 

Hawke immerged from the tent a few minutes later, fully dressed, hair tied back and staff in hand, just in time to be greeted by the smell of eggs cooking over the campfire in a frying pan. The swirling volume of clouds where the tear in the veil had been, loomed in the faraway distance. Fenris looked up as Hex ran towards Hawke, sitting down in front of the tall mage and waiting to be petted, while lifting the eggs onto their plates.

 

“Hey there, boy, did you sleep well?” asked Hawke, crouching down and scratching the mabari behind the ears. Hex barked happily, his short stubby tail causing a small dust cloud as it wagged in the sand. “Keep an ear out for any Templars?” said Hawke, earning another happy bark. “Good boy,”

 

Hawke scratched Hex’s head one more time before getting up and heading towards Fenris. He sat down next to him with a grunt, accompanied with a wince when his rear made contact with the hard surface of the long log.

 

“Hawke, are you alright?” Fenris asked with concern, handing Hawke his plate of food.

 

“I’m surprised you even ask, since you’re directly responsible,” Hawke grinned, accepting the plate from the elf. “You were on fire last night,”

 

Fenris’ cheeks tinged pink, a bashful smile playing at the corner of his lips as realisation dawned on him. “I get very… excited, when you ask me to take you,” said Fenris, turning his head away from Hawke.

 

Hawke set his plate aside, cupping Fenris’ face with his large hand, turning the elf’s head until they were staring eye to eye. “You should never need to feel embarrassed about these things, Fenris. Your pleasure is equally as important,” said Hawke, leaning forward so their lips brushed together in a sweet kiss.

 

“Forgive me, Hawke. The mannerisms of my old life are difficult to suppress,” said Fenris, fidgeting with his fingers.

 

“No need to apologise, Love,” Hawke assured, placing his hand over Fenris’ and giving them a squeeze.

 

Fenris suddenly grinned amusedly, “Don’t look now, but our furry companion just made off with your breakfast,” he chuckled.

 

Hawke turned his head in time to see Hex run off with his slice of bread and the egg that was on top. “Oi! Get back here you thieving scoundrel!”

Hawke made a grab for the hound, but Hex was well out of arms reach.

 

“Oh leave him be, Hawke, it’s not like you’ll be able to eat it if you get it back,” Fenris teased, shaking his head as he sliced off another piece of bread, “Here, you can share mine,”

 

Hawke smiled gratefully, taking the bread Fenris held out to him and enjoying the rest of the eggs and some of the cheese they had left over. “You think there’ll be a village we’ll pass on our way back to Kirkwall?” Fenris asked, licking away a few stray crumbs on his lips.

 

“I don’t know, Fen. I haven’t really studied the maps, why?” Hawke replied after a few moments in thought.

 

“Well for our sake I hope there is. We need to stock up on supplies if we intend to survive the journey,” said Fenris, putting away the last bit of food they had left.

 

“No doubt Viscount Tethras will want to question us about the whole trip when we get there,” Hawke sighed, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his mouth

 

            *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

Fenris ran his blade through the Red Templar’s chest, before a bolt of lightning crackled over his shoulder, striking another Templar who was about to stab him in the back. He looked in the direction the bolt had come from, nodding at Hawke in thanks before the mage waved his staff to summon a fire storm.

 

It turned out there was a village on the way, but mere minutes after they had set foot in the small farming community, a group of Red Templars descended upon them.

 

Fenris struggled making his way towards Hawke, who was engaged in fighting a Templar with jagged shards of red lyrium where his forearms used to be. He struck down Templar after Templar, but he could feel his stamina draining, where he was caught fighting two men at the same time.

 

“Give it up, Champion!” Fenris’s ears perked at the words of the familiar voice, “You might have been able to defeat the Templars back in the Gallows, but you’re no match for our new power,”

 

“You think what you have done to yourself has made you invincible?” Hawke yelled, ducking away from the bladelike appendages. “It’s a poison! Ten times more lethal than normal lyrium use and a hundred times quicker,” said Hawke, releasing a kinetic blast that barely moved the Templar a few meters.

 

The Templar slammed his blades into the ground, sending a wave of red energy towards Hawke. He summoned rock armour around himself just before the energy knocked him off his feet. Fenris roared, his markings flaring up as he released a spirit pulse, knocking his attackers back. He dashed towards Hawke as the Templar advanced upon the mage, blades raised at the ready.

 

There was a loud clang as the jagged lyrium made contact with Fenris’ sword, before the elf kicked the Templar in the chest and sent him staggering back. “I see you still have your pet knife-ear to fight your battles for you,” the Templar breathed, regaining his stance.

 

That voice. There was something so familiar about that voice. The name belonging to it was right at the tip of his tongue.

 

“He is no one’s pet!” Hawke spat, flinging his arm towards the Templar. A solid ball of rock materialised in front of Hawke’s palm and flew at the Templar with tremendous force. As it collided, Fenris was certain he heard the sound of bone cracking, and judging by the dent it left in the Templar’s chest plate, he was sure there had to be a broken rib or two.

 

Hawke got to his feet as a child’s scream echoed from one of the buildings that had been set ablaze. “Go Hawke! I’ll keep them busy here. Go save the child,” said Fenris, knowing full well what was going through the mage’s mind.

 

“I won’t be long! Stay safe!” said Hawke, giving Fenris a passionate kiss before disappearing into the burning home.  

 

There was no time to ponder Hawke’s safety, as another Templar hunter lunged at Fenris. He jumped out of the way as the Templar swung his jagged lyrium bladed arms, just barely missing Fenris’ chest. Dodging another blow, Fenris readied his sword. As he raised his blade above his head, one of the other remaining Templars tackled him from the side.

 

The elf barely hit the ground before crying out in pain as the Templar hunter stabbed him in his right thigh. His mouth twisted into a furious snarl, clenching his teeth as he held the Templar’s other hand at bay, the jagged blade mere inches from his throat.

 

“Think your death will be the last thing that forces the Champion to crack?” the Templar sneered, “I’ve seen mages cave and lose control for far less,”

 

“Then you don’t know Hawke! You haven’t met a mage like him before,” Fenris spat in the Templar’s face, making him twist the blade in his leg. Grunting in pain, Fenris focused all strength on keeping the blade from inching closer to his throat.

 

As the tip of the blade started tickling his neck, there was a bright flash of light. The Templar, along with the rest of his comrades, flew back, trying to gain leverage on the ground as they were pulled by an invisible force. Fenris looked behind him to see Hawke, hands aglow with magic, his brow furrowed in concentration.

 

As Hawke finished the Pull of the Abyss, he swung his staff through the air, conjuring an invisible force that encased the entire group of Templars. “I grow tired of this!” he said, squeezing his hand into a fist, causing the invisible cage to rapidly shrink as it crushed its prisoners.

 

Hawke hurried to Fenris’ side, hands already buzzing with the green energy from a healing spell. “Hold still, Fen,” said Hawke, hovering his hands over every inch of Fenris. The elf sighed in relief, feeling his wounds disappear as skin and muscle stitched back together.

 

“Thank you, Hawke,” Fenris smiled, looking for his sword as he sat up. There was the sound of gargled coughing coming from a short distance away where a Templar was clutching at the side of his chest.

 

Hawke cast a glyph of paralysis beneath the Templar as they cautiously made their way towards him. Fenris kneeled down and removed his helmet, his eyes widening as he could finally place a name to the voice. Ser Paxley. One of Keran’s, the Templar recruit they had saved from blood mages so many years ago, friends.

 

He had a large scar stemming from his left cheek all the way to his chin, his eyes were already red from the lyrium corruption and a few hornlike red lyrium growths protruded from his right brow. “Paxley, you fool! I thought you had more sense than to throw your lot in with the Red Templars. Especially after you had witnessed what happened to Meredith,” said Fenris, getting back to his feet.

 

“Mock me all you want, at least this is better than being forced to dance to the Chantry’s tune, like a puppet on a string,” said Paxley, groaning as he tried taking a deep breath.

 

“We helped your friend when none of you could,” said Hawke, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why attack us?”

 

“To end it all. I knew we wouldn’t stand a chance against you, Champion,”

 

“So you endanger the lives of countless innocents just because you have a death wish?” Hawke spat.

 

Fenris placed his hand on Hawkes arm, squeezing gently, “I’ve seen this before, Hawke. The Templars might be free in the conventional sense, but scratch away the surface and you’ll find the truth. They are slaves,”

 

Hawke shut his eyes, “What do you want from us then, Paxley?”

 

“Kill me, please. If you don’t, the red lyrium will. I beg you!” Paxley coughed.

 

Hawke looked at Fenris, nodding in agreement at the unsaid question he saw in his eyes. Fenris placed his blade over the Templar’s chest, the man’s lips curved into a grateful smile, before Fenris’ blade sank through and Paxley’s body went limp.

 

They, along with the townspeople, gathered the Templars’ bodies in a pile before Hawke set them ablaze with magical flame, ensuring no red lyrium would remain which could infect any of the villagers.

 

            *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

“I told you I’m fine, Hawke,” said Fenris while crouched down by their campfire, stoking the embers.

 

“You’re sure? You know my ability for healing is… questionable,” said Hawke from where he was feeding the two horses gifted to them by the villagers.

 

“Garrett, you have been a spirit healer for about six years now. Any skill you lack, I’m more than sure the spirits make up for,”

 

Hawke blushed lightly. It wasn’t often that Fenris referred to him by his first name, but it happened occasionally during their nightly bouts of passionate lovemaking. And also that one afternoon during a rainstorm. The way Fenris breathes it into his ear before he…

 

“Hawke, did you hear me?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I asked, did you tie the horses down properly for the night? We don’t want them getting loose and running off… again,” said Fenris, shooting Hawke a pointed look.

 

“Hey, I’m a mage. If you wish for someone with ample knowledge of the wilds and how to tie knots, then find a ranger or Dalish hunter. If you want the horses encased in ice or petrified till morning, then I’m your man,” Hawke replied, stroking the mane of his Fereldan Forder mare who whinnied in disapproval, “Not that I’d ever do that to you, girl,” he added, scratching her behind her ears.

 

“You ARE my man,” Fenris quipped, his gaze centred on the fire while his mouth quirked into a small teasing smile. He kept his eyes down as he heard the foliage crack beneath Hawke’s feet while the man walked over to him. He looked up when Hawke sat down beside him, lacing his arm around Fenris’ shoulders and leaning down to plant a kiss over the three lyrium specks on his forehead.

 

“Hawke, what’s the matter? You haven’t acted this much like a mother hen, since that time I was bitten by a dragonling when we fought the High Dragon at the bone pit,”

 

“I remember. I had never wanted Anders with us more, than that day,”

 

“So did I,” said Fenris, lazily pocking at the fire, “What?” he asked, seeing Hawke stare at him dubiously.

 

“I don’t know whether to feel insulted or relieved, that you also wanted Anders in the group,”

 

“I merely meant it, would have been preferable to have been healed by him. Not because you are inadequate, mind you,” Fenris added when Hawke clutched his chest in mock hurt, “If Anders had healed me that would have been the end of it, but you, you kept asking if I was alright every time I so much as uttered a sound of displeasure,”

 

“Can you blame me? I had just started learning how to be a spirit healer! Heal a bone wrong or knit skin back together improperly, and the patient has a whole new set of problems,” said Hawke, arms gesturing dramatically.

 

“Relax, Love, I’m only teasing,” Fenris smiled, giving Hawke a peck on the cheek. He watched the blush spread over Hawke’s face, while the mage nervously twiddled his fingers in his lap.

 

“But, you’re sure you’re alright?” Hawke looked down at Fenris’ leg, dark skin peeking out of the hole in his leggings.

 

“This is about more than my leg, isn’t it?” said Fenris, realisation dawning on him when Hawke didn’t meet his eyes.

 

 “You scared me today,” Hawke whispered, running his hands through his long raven locks where they came to rest at the back of his neck.

 

“I’m sorry, Hawke, I…”

 

“YOU’RE sorry? Maker, Fenris, what for?” Hawke yelled, his golden amber eyes filled with guilt, “If I had been gone a second longer…”

 

Fenris placed his hand over Hawke’s, feeling the mage tense under his touch before letting out a deep sigh. “You weren’t. I’m still here, love,” Fenris soothed, gently caressing the back of Hawke’s hand with his thumb.

 

“But I should have been quicker!” Hawke breathed through clenched teeth, the campfire growing slightly higher, “When I saw that Templar standing over you… my blood ran cold and my heart dropped into my stomach. It was Bethany and mother all over again,” Hawke’s voice quivered, his eyes glistening in the firelight with the onset of tears.

 

“Garrett, I’m fine,” Fenris whispered, cupping Hawke’s face and raising his head to place a reassuring kiss on his cheek. He was caught off guard when Hawke suddenly flung his arms around him in a crushing hug, fingers digging desperately into his skin. “Shhhh, Garrett, it’s alright,” Fenris returned the hug, running his hands in comforting circles all along Hawke’s back.

 

“I can’t lose you,” Hawke muffled into Fenris’ shirt, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too,”

 

 _“Think your death will be the last thing that forces the Champion to crack?”_ Fenris tensed briefly, but not long enough for Hawke to notice, as the Templar’s words flashed through his memory.

 

“Garrett, listen to me,” said Fenris, cupping his hand behind Hawke’s neck and placing a kiss at the junction of his ear and jaw, “I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?”

 

“Wow! You called me by my first name, four times in one day,” Hawke chuckled, trying to mask the crack in his voice, “I think you set a world record, Fen,”

 

“Stop trying to change the subject with your witty sarcasm,” Fenris smiled, pinching one of Hawke’s nipples, causing the mage to jerk back and hold his hands over his chest.

 

“Ouch! Who says I’m trying to change the subject?” Hawke replied, earning him a dubious look from the elf. He sighed in defeat, flashing Fenris a goofy smile.

 

“Back in the Gallows, when I told you that nothing would keep me from you, I meant it,” Fenris cupped Hawke’s face, gently caressing his cheek with his thumb. “But leave me behind like that time you helped the Inquisition, and I’ll make a phylactery to track you down,” he said, gaze serious and voice stern.

 

Hex barked in disagreement with Fenris’ words from where he sat next to the log “I trust your tracking skills to the fullest, boy, but a phylactery won’t lose the scent if Hawke decides to sail across the see… again,” Fenris gave Hawke another pointed look, as Hex barked in agreement while giving the mage an accusing look of his own.

 

“Oh Maker, you’re not still mad about that, are you?”

 

“As far as I’m concerned? No, but I can’t speak for our mabari child here” said Fenris, scratching Hex’s muscular neck.

 

“Two against one? That’s not very fair,”

 

“You’ve faced greater odds than an elf and mabari,”

 

“True, but how can I win when they are my husband and son,” Hawke smiled before being tackled to the ground by Hex, who was barking happily in-between licks to the mage’s face. “Hex, no! Down boy! No, no kisses!”

 

“You do realise I’m the one he referred to as his husband, right?” Fenris laughed. Hex huffed, giving Hawke one last slobbery lick to his face before scampering off to go lie down on his bedroll they set aside for him outside the tent.

 

Hawke grabbed a cloth and headed in the direction of the creek near their campsite. “Are you going to join me for a bath?” Hawke asked, holding his hand out in invitation.

 

“A bath sounds wonderful,” Fenris smiled, taking Hawke’s hand. They walked for a short distance before reaching the creek, its crisp clear water mulling about gently. Fenris shivered slightly, the night air having grown chillier, as Hawke walked towards the edge of the water.

 

He felt his lyrium markings react to Hawke’s magic, as the mage raised a few rocks into a large circle within the creek before casting a giant glyph of fire inside it. “Just give it a few seconds and the water will be nice and warm when we get in,” Hawke winked, starting to disrobe.

 

Fenris watched in appreciation as Hawke slid his tunic up and over his head, exposing his toned abdominal muscles and well defined pectorals, before Fenris started shucking his own clothes.

 

A thin veil of steam was rising from the waters within Hawke’s makeshift bathtub by the time they got in. Hawke sighed contentedly before he sank beneath the water’s surface, submerging himself completely and rubbing over his face to wash off Hex’s slobber.

 

Fenris sat down in the water, humming approvingly at the welcome sensation of the hot water, closing his eyes as he rested his back against a large smooth rock. He felt the gentle caress of lips against his own, opening his eyes to find staring lovingly at his face. “Mages don’t seem so bad now, do we?” Hawke teased, resting his hands at Fenris’ sides.

 

“They are somewhat useful… occasionally,” Fenris quipped back. Hawke responded by giving him a long sweet kiss, gently tracing his fingers over the lyrium tattoos on his chest and stomach. Hawke smiled into the kiss when Fenris shuddered as he took one of his sensitive nipples between his fingers.

 

Fenris dragged his fingers across Hawke’s back as he started nipping and sucking at the elf’s neck, dragging his tongue across the markings on Fenris’ throat. The water temperature rose slightly as Hawke grunted with a mix of pain and pleasure, biting down on Fenris’ shoulder, making the elf gasp and thrust his hips up against Hawke’s.

 

Hawke lifted Fenris out of the water and on top of the rock, nestling himself between his legs and wrapping his hand around the shaft of Fenris’ throbbing cock. He looked up at Fenris while slowly stroking his cock, finding the elf staring at him with hooded eyes darkened by lust.

 

“Maker, Fenris, you are beautiful,” Hawke breathed before lowering his head, pulling back Fenris’ foreskin and licking at the tip of his cock. Fenris breathed out a soft moan, only to gasp loudly as Hawke engulfed his entire length down his throat. He grabbed hold of Hawke’s head, tangling his fingers in the long raven locks while the mage continued expertly working his tongue along and around his cock.

 

“Vinhedis!” Fenris cried out, legs trembling, when Hawke slowly started encircling a finger around his hole. Fenris pulled Hawke up by his hair, tasting himself on Hawke’s tongue as they locked lips in a filthy, passionate kiss. “I want you,” Fenris panted when they broke the kiss.

 

Hawke smiled, wasting no time getting up and standing bent down over the rock, spreading his legs wide as he presented himself to Fenris. The elf kneeled down behind him, spreading the mage’s buttock and running his tongue along his crevice. Hawke moaned audibly, shuddering as Fenris worked a slick finger into him while lapping hungrily at his hole.

 

“I want you… inside me, Fen,” Hawke panted, spreading his legs even farther, “I need you inside me,”

 

“Needy little thing tonight, aren’t we?” Fenris growled, biting Hawke’s left buttock while he worked a second finger into him. Fenris stood up, taking himself in hand and slapping his cock against Hawke’s ass, “You want my cock?”

 

“Fenris, please…” Hawke’s words died in his throat at the same time a loud smack echoed through the quiet air.

 

“That wasn’t the answer I was looking for,” Fenris admonished, spanking Hawke’s ass for a second time.

 

“Yes,” Hawke whimpered, his throbbing cock twitching angrily between his legs.

 

 “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Do want my cock?” Fenris asked, rubbing the head of his leaking cock up and down Hawke’s cleft.

 

“MAKER, YES!!!”

 

Fenris smiled, pulling Hawke up and planting a sloppy kiss on his lips as he pushed his cockhead past Hawke’s tight hole. The mage arched his back, pushing back onto the elf’s cock, as Fenris started thrusting in a steady rhythm. Hawke reached down to touch his cock, only to have Fenris swat his hand away.

 

“No touching yourself,” Fenris tutted, kneading Hawke’s voluptuous buttocks as he ground his hips into the mage, “I’m going to make you cum. WITHOUT. TOUCHING. YOU’RE. COCK,” he emphasised the last words, each with a quick, deep thrust.

 

He pulled out briefly, giving Hawke a kiss and biting lightly as he dragged the mage’s lower lip between his teeth. Fenris sat down on the smooth rock, turning Hawke so that his back was facing him before signalling him to sit down. “I want you to ride me,” Fenris commanded, holding Hawke’s wrists firmly behind his back as he lowered himself onto the elf’s cock.

 

Hawke threw his head back as euphoria washed over him when Fenris’ cock made contact with his prostate. “Tears of the Maker! Yes, Fenris, right there,” Hawke hissed, the familiar tingling of his approaching orgasm starting in his belly.

 

“I’m getting close, love,” Hawke grunted, gyrating his hips down onto Fenris’ hips.

 

“I’m not going to be far behind, if you keep that up,” Fenris growled, thrusting upwards to fuck deeper into Hawke. He felt the mage’s muscles starting to tense, “Turn around, Hawke, and keep your hands away from your cock. I want to see your face when you cum,” said Fenris, turning Hawke to face him.

 

Hawke obeyed, keeping his hands at his side, while his cock dribbled a steady stream of arousal down his shaft and balls. “Oh Maker, here it comes… FUCK!” Hawke cried out, throwing his head back, mouth open in a silent scream as a thick rope of cum flew from the tip of his cock and landed on Fenris’ cheek.

 

His cock twitched as four more jets of cum shot onto his chest and stomach, the rest flowing down his shaft and pooling on top of Fenris’ stomach. The expression of utter bliss on Hawke’s face, as well as the tensing of his muscles around Fenris’ cock, was enough to send the elf over the edge.

 

“Vinhedis!” Fenris yelled with a feral growl, thrusting into the mage one last time before his orgasm erupted. Hawke felt Fenris’ cock twitch furiously as his cum coated the mage’s insides. Hawke collapsed on top of Fenris, catching his mouth in a passionate kiss, their tongues battling for supremacy over one another as they came down from their post orgasmic high.

 

“I love you,” Hawke smiled, resting their foreheads against each other.

 

“I love you too,” Fenris replied, pecking Hawke’s lips on more time before slowly slipping his deflated cock out of him. “We better finish washing up, before Hex has a chance to rummage through the supplies,”

 

“Nah, he wouldn’t do that,” Hawke shrugged, before doubt crossed his face, “We better hurry, just to be safe,”

 

Fenris laughed, smiling fondly at his husband as he rolled his eye at him.

 

            *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

Fenris woke, finding himself nestled comfortably against Hawke, his muscular arm draped protectively over him, holding him close. Fenris took Hawke’s hand, entwining their fingers as he pulled the mage’s arm tighter around him. Hawke responded, pulling Fenris closer against him and nuzzling his neck in his sleep.

 

He felt Hawke kiss the lobe of his ear softly, turning his head to find a pair of gorgeous amber eyes sleepily staring back at him. “Good morning, Fen,” Hawke smiled.

 

“Good morning to you too,” said Fenris, turning in Hawke’s arms so that they were facing each other. “Sleep well?”

 

“Very,” Hawke replied, pecking Fenris on the lips, “I must say, I’m going to miss camping out under the stars,”

 

“I for one am looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed again,”

 

“Liar!” Hawke laughed.

 

“I am not lying!” Fenris replied, his usual broody scowl etched on his face.

 

“So the fact that winter is approaching has nothing to do with it?”

 

“Not at all,”

 

“I still think you’re lying,” Hawke smiled, “But I must admit, having a solid roof over our heads and a nice, warm, home cooked meal does sound promising,” said Hawke, sitting up before making his way to the tent’s entrance.

 

“Hawke, you know I don’t mind staring at your bare ass, but shouldn’t you put some pants on first?”

 

“What for? I’m just going to pee,” Hawke shrugged, “It’s not like there’s anyone around to see me, and if there happens to be a spectator, then like you, I’m sure they will appreciate the view. I won’t be long, love,” he winked before exiting the tent.

 

“Morning, boy, did you have a… Hex, stop! No!” Fenris heard a thud, followed by happy barking as the large hound tackled Hawke to the ground in his excitement, “No, Hex! No kisses! Especially with your morning breath,”

 

Fenris laughed quietly to himself, listening to Hawke manage to wrestle the mabari off of him and make his way to the edge of camp. He searched for his own leggings, sighing with annoyance when he pulled them, noticing the huge tear where the Templar had stabbed him.

 

He glanced back at the hole after fastening his pant laces, something catching his eye. Pushing back the tattered cloth, he saw a red smear on his leg. Fenris licked his finger and rubbed at the spot, thinking it might just be blood from the battle the day before.

 

Lifting his fingers, he was perplexed to see the red hadn’t so much as even smudged. His heart fell into his stomach when he leaned down to have a closer look. Directly where his lyrium brand ran across his leg, the once white line had turned red. Images of the Templar sinking his jagged red lyrium blade into his thigh, flashed through Fenris’ memory.

 

“Hey Fenris I-” Hawke stuck his head back in the tent giving Fenris a startle, “Aww, you put your pants on,” he pouted, “I thought we could have round two from last night,”

 

“Apologies, Hawke,” said Fenris, avoiding Hawke’s gaze, “I think it best we postpone those activities till we get back to Kirkwall,”

 

“Oh, alright,” said Hawke, confusion and doubt flashing through his facial expression, “I’ll get breakfast going then,” With that he exited the tent again. Fenris felt his heart wrench, looking down at the red strip of lyrium. He could have sworn it looked like it had spread farther.

 

Tears of anger stung at the back of his eyes. He silently cursed the Maker and all the other deities from every other race he knew. He cursed himself for not paying better attention during the battle. And once again, he cursed Danarius for placing the markings upon him.

 

It didn’t matter whose name he cursed, he knew that. Being infected with red lyrium was a death sentence and nothing could change that now, but he would be damned before he made Hawke suffer by knowing about his impending fate.

 

Hawke offered him a plate with cheese, bread and a few grapes when he came out of the tent. “I didn’t want to dirty the pans,” said Hawke, “It’ll save more time not having to clean the grease off of them,”

 

“Fair enough,” Fenris smiled, taking a bite of his bread and cheese.

 

“Is everything alright, Fenris? You seem… distracted?” Hawke asked, eyeing him worriedly, “Is it your leg?”

 

Fenris paused mid bite, looking at Hawke, “W-what? N-no, no I’m fine,”

 

Hawke looked him in the eye for several seconds, “Alright, if you say so,” he shrugged, throwing the rest of his bread to Hex, “I’ll start packing up the tent,” said Hawke, placing a soft kiss on Fenris’ forehead as he stood up from the log.

 

Fenris heard a sad whimper next to him, looking up to find Hex staring at him, the dog’s large head tilted in an inquisitive manner. “I know he knows I’m lying, what do you expect me to do?” Fenris whispered, keeping his eyes on Hawke. Hex barked a judgmental ruff before scampering off towards the mage, stubby tail wagging halfheartedly. “Wonderful, now the dog is judging me,”

 

            *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

“So tell me, Hawke, what’s got you so down in the dumps?” said Varric, pouring them each a shot of whiskey, “You’ve barely told me about the trip back to Kirkwall, and Broody seemed even less chatty during dinner than he usually is,”

 

They were both sitting in Varric’s office, while Fenris was busy catching up with Donnic in the barracks. Aveline would have joined them, but she deemed duty came before pleasure as she reluctantly left the room but not before she gave the tall mage a crushing hug.

 

“Honestly, Varric, I don’t know what’s wrong. He’s been avoiding me ever since the day after we ran into some trouble,” said Hawke, swallowing his whiskey in one big gulp.

 

“Trouble? Do tell,” said Varric, topping up Hawke’s glass.

 

“We were restocking some supplies in a village about two days away from Kirkwall…”

 

“Let me guess. The baker saw Fenris and refused to serve a dirty knife-ear and you defended his honour by setting the shop on fire,”

 

“I wish it was that simple,” Hawke laughed, “We ran into a group of Red Templars. You remember a Templar by the name of Paxley?”

 

“Wasn’t he friends with that Templar kid we saved from those bloodmages? Now what was his name?”

 

“He’s not important right now. You have the general idea of who I’m speaking of,” Hawke replied, putting his feet up on Varric’s desk, “He recognised me and ordered his fellows to attack us and the village,”

 

“Judging by the fact that you’re still alive, I take it things didn’t end well for the Templars,” Varric smirked over his glass of whiskey.

 

“Your assumptions would be correct, but we didn’t walk away unscathed,” Hawke sighed, “Varric, I almost lost Fenris that day,”

 

“Huh, no wonder you’re so downbeat. May I ask what happened?”

 

“Need new material for your next book again?” Hawke teased.

 

“Two lovers bound by fate, caught in a world that wishes to tear them apart? People can’t get enough of that type of shit,” Varric chuckled, swallowing his shot, “But getting back to your story,” Varric motioned for Hawke to continue.

 

“I found Fenris pinned to the ground by a Templar with those dagger-like growths where his forearms should be,” Hawke gestured with his hands.

 

“A Red Templar Shadow, I believe they’re called. Took down quite a few of those with Bianca when we were helping the Inquisition,”

 

“Well he had stabbed Fenris in his leg and nearly slit his throat before I cast Pull of the Abyss. I’ll spare you the rest of the gory details,” said Hawke, reclining into the big comfy chair.

 

“You’re a real killjoy, Hawke,” Varric huffed, chugging back his fourth shot of whiskey, “I can’t remember the last time I had a bit of excitement since I came back from Orlais,”

 

“Speaking of which, how did Merrill take the news of you meeting the Dread Wolf?”

 

“Don’t try to change the subject, Hawke,” Varric tutted, waving a gloved finger at the mage, “What happened with Fenris after you dispatched the Templars?”

 

“Alright let’s see…” said Hawke, resting his chin on his knuckles, “I healed Fenris’ leg, Fenris mercy killed Paxley, we burned their bodies and the villagers thanked us for saving them and gave us Jinx and Enchanter,”

 

“You named your horses Jinx and Enchanter?” Varric snorted.

 

“I’m a mage who named my dog Hex,” Hawke grinned, “You’re telling me you’re surprised?”

 

“Y’know, when I think about it, I’m actually surprised you don’t have an owl named Arcanus yet,” Varric laughed, “Now back to you and Fenris. You said the villagers gave you the horses, then what?”

 

“Oh, we set up camp, had dinner, talked about our feelings, made love while taking a bath together, then went to bed,”

 

“You won’t tell me the gory battle details, but you’ll divulge details of your sex life?”

 

Hawke ignored Varric’s complaint. He knew and Varric knew, that the dwarf absorbed every detail he could use for his writing. “You wanted to know what happened with Fenris after the fight, so don’t complain when I tell you,”

 

“Fine, fine, carry on,” Varric rolled his eyes.

 

“Everything was fine when we woke up the next morning. I got up to relieve myself and when I came back, Fenris was already dressed, acting distant,”

 

Varric seemed to mull over the information in his head, his face cool and calculative, “Maybe he just needs some space, Hawke. A little time to brood to himself”

 

“I give him tons of space!” Hawke pouted, “In fact, ever since I came back from Wheissaupt, he hadn’t left my side, saying that that way I can’t run off and leave him alone again,”

 

“I’m sorry I’m not of much help, Hawke. Couples therapy isn’t really my forte,”

 

“You being there to listen is more than enough, Varric,” Hawke smiled, getting to his feet, “I best get Fenris so we can go, it’s getting late and you’ll probably be very busy tomorrow, what with being Viscount and all,”

 

“Uhg, don’t remind me,” Varric sighed, “I’m starting to think that Viscount Dumar was glad to get his head chopped off by the Arishok,”

 

“Hang in there, my trusty dwarf,” Hawke chuckled, leaning down to pull Varric into a hug.

 

“Alright, enough with the mushy stuff,” Varric blushed as the broke the hug, “Watch yourselves while walking home, we’ve been receiving reports of gang activity on the streets lately,”

 

“Allways a group of idiots…”

 

“Who think they can take Hightown at night,” Varric laughed, “See you later Hawke,”

 

            *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

“So what did you and Donnic talk about?” Hawke inquired, gently taking Fenris’ hand in his, smiling happily when the elf entwined their fingers together.

 

“He mostly talked about how fast Wesley was growing up and that Aveline’s new nickname in the barracks is Mama Bear, though he’s the only one who can call her that and only receive a disapproving scowl” Fenris chuckled.

 

“Aveline is a wonderful mother,” Hawke smiled, “I can’t believe the little scamp is turning four already,”

 

They walked in silence for a while before Fenris looked up at Hawke. “At what age did your magic manifest itself?” Fenris asked nonchalantly.

 

“I was about five or six when I accidently made Mother’s pie apples explode after throwing a tantrum,” Hawke answered after a few moments in thought, “Why do you ask? Think little Wesley is going to be a mage?”

 

“I can’t say for sure, but my markings do react when he gets near me,” Fenris stared into the distance, “Either way, it’s sure to be a comfort to Aveline and Donnic to know they have the most honourable mage, whom I have ever met, to  mentor their son,”

 

“Always the flatterer, you are,” said Hawke, giving Fenris a soft peck on his temple, “I think it would be nice to have a little apprentice, though the future is never certain,”

 

Fenris’ heart sank, as he absentmindedly ran his hand over his thigh. His future was certain, he was going to die and there was nothing he nor anyone could do about it. He let go of Hawke’s hand, coming to a complete stop.

 

“Fenris, are you alright?” Hawke asked, placing his hands on Fenris’ shoulders.

 

“Garrett…” Fenris swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling very dry, “I have to tell you something, but…” he clenched his fists, feeling the traitorous sting of tears behind his eyes.

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hawke shushed, cupping Fenris’ cheek. A whimper escaped Fenris’ throat as he leaned his face into Hawke’s touch, “You know you can tell me anything, Fen,”

 

Fenris smiled sadly, looking at Hawke with his puppy eyes before all emotion drained from his face and he started looking at their surroundings. He held up a gauntleted finger, silencing whatever it was that Hawke was about to ask, his ears perked up and twitching while his eyes roamed about, scanning the darkness.

 

“We are not alone,” Fenris whispered, before the twang from a bow reached his ears.

 

“Aargh!” Hawke cried out as an arrow pierced his thigh, causing him to fall to the ground. He flung out his arm, flicking his wrist upward, raising a wall of stone from the ground for cover.

 

“Hawke!” Fenris yelled, kneeling down beside the mage.

 

“I’m fine, just pull this thing out so I can heal it, please,” Hawke reassured, clutching his leg right above where the arrow protruded.

 

“Hold still, this is not going to be pleasant,” said Fenris, wrapping his hand around the shaft.

 

“Ha, no shit,” Hawke chuckled, earning him a scowl, “Sorry… Just please pull it out, Fen, it stings like a bitch!” Hawke groaned through clenched teeth. With a swift yank of his arm, Fenris pulled out the arrow and threw it aside. “FUCK!” Hawke grunted after inhaling sharply. He held his hand above the wound as green energy started buzzing in his palm before spluttering and fizzling out.

 

“What the hell?” Hawke flexed his fingers, trying to summon flames to his hand, only managing a few sparks which too fizzled out.

 

“Magebane,” said Fenris, after picking up the arrow and smelling the arrowhead, “No wonder you complained that it stung,”

 

“Andraste’s flaming arse!” Hawke yelled, “Hand me my staff please, Fenris”

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Fenris asked, as Hawke tried getting to his feet.

 

“I don’t need my magic to be able to wield a blade,” Hawke replied, clenching his teeth as he tried putting weight on his leg.

 

“Like hell you are!” said Fenris, catching the mage as he staggered forward.

 

“What do you expect me to do? Stand back like some defenceless damsel?”

 

“I expect you to stay safe,” said Fenris, catching Hawke’s mouth in a kiss before unsheathing his blade and running out from behind their cover “Have at thee, you bastards!!”

 

“It’s the knife-ear!” Hawke heard one of the thugs yell before Fenris’ trademark battle-cry filled the night air, along with the clanking of blade against blade. He peeked out from behind the wall of rock, palm stretched out in front of him. Hawke pointed his hand to one of the rogues, calling forth a ball of violet spirit energy which spluttered in his hand before dispersing into the air.

 

“ _Where’s a lyrium potion when you need one?_ ” Hawke thought to himself.

 

“Fenris, behind you!” he yelled, flinging the dagger he kept strapped to his belt, at a thug who had tried to flank the elf. The man cried out as the blade struck him in the back, before Fenris cleaved his head in two.

 

Hawke smiled with pride seeing the thug go down, failing to notice another assailant lining up his bow and pointing it in his direction. He caught sight of the archer a split second too late, as another arrow struck him in his right shoulder.

 

“Hawke!!” Fenris screamed, blocking a blow from one of the swordsmen. He let loose a thunderous cry as his markings ignited with a powerful spirit pulse. The men surrounding him were flung back, some losing their grip on their weapons as they hit the ground.

 

Fenris set his sights on the archer who had shot Hawke, charging towards them with as much fury as he could muster. The thug let loose another arrow at Fenris, before the bow clattered to the ground followed by its owner. Blood pooled on the ground, seeping vigorously from the gash where Fenris had run the archer through.

 

Fenris breathed heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly with each intake of air, before he ran towards Hawke. The mage was propped up against a pillar behind the wall of stone, clutching his arm and looking rather dazed. Fenris noticed the rather large red stain on Hawke’s tunic where the arrow still protruded.

 

“So, that’s what you tried to tell me,” Hawke said groggily. He indicated to Fenris’ leg when the elf looked him on with a confused expression. Fenris realised that his markings were still aglow, but his entire right leg and a portion of his abdomen was alight in a bright scarlet, apart from the brilliant blue covering the rest of his body. “Here I thought you were avoiding me because I had done something wrong,”

 

“I’m sorry… I-”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“I-I didn’t want you to worry,” said Fenris, the glow fading from his markings.

 

“We’ll need to work on your strategy then, you managed to do the exact opposite,” Hawke chuckled mirthlessly. He looked up at Fenris, eyes widening.

 

“LOK OUT!” he yelled as a thug readied to bring his blade down upon Fenris. The sound of a metallic twang filled the air before an arrow pierced through their attacker’s neck. The thug fell to the ground, Fenris holding his sword at the ready as footsteps were heard heading their way.

 

“I knew I would find you two in the middle of this mess,” said Varric, shaking his head as he ran to Hawke’s side. He fished in his pocket, producing a small vial of healing potion which he uncorked and held to Hawke’s lips.

 

“Maker’s breath, Hawke,” said Aveline, rounding the corner, “Not even back for three days yet, and already you nearly get yourself in trouble,”

 

“You can lecture him later, Aveline,” said Varric, opening another vial and dripping some of its contents onto the wound on Hawke’s leg.

 

“Guard Captain!” said one of the guardsmen, standing at attention.

 

“Report,”

 

“Most of the bandits are dead or dying and the ones who fair better have been taken into custody,”

 

“Good work, guardsman. Have the men escort the prisoners to the dungeons and dispose of the bodies,”

 

The guardsman saluted before heading off. “How did you know we were in trouble?” asked Fenris from where he was crouched next to Hawke.

 

“Do it,” said Hawke, reading Fenris’ mind as the elf wrapped his hand around the arrow in the mage’s shoulder and swiftly yanked it out. “SON OF A BITCH!!!” Hawke hissed.

 

“Just because I’m Viscount, doesn’t mean I don’t still have my informants and spies in the city,” Varric smiled, quirking a brow. “I’m surprised you haven’t cranked out the healing spells yet, considering the arrow sticking out of Fenris’ side,”

 

Fenris looked down, quickly pulling the arrow out with a small pained grunt and taking the vial of health potion Aveline held out to him. “The bandits shot him with Magebane,” said Fenris, kneeling down to give Hawke the rest of the potion.

 

“Aveline, have one of your men go fetch Blondie,” said Varric, holstering Bianca on his back.

 

            *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

Hawke sat on his bed, a tray with a small bowl of chicken soup steaming steadily at his side. Despite his protests, Orana insisted he eat. It didn’t help that Anders agreed that Hawke needed to have something to keep his strength up after the effects of the Magebane wore off.

 

Just then, Fenris entered his room, hair wet and skin glistening with droplets from his bath. He paused when he saw Hawke still awake and staring at him expectantly.

 

“What?”

 

“What?! That’s all you have to say? WHAT!?” Hawke yelled, “Maker, Fenris, I know I suffered from a case of severe blood loss, but I know what I saw!”

 

Fenris lowered his gaze to the floor, “I had hoped you had forgotten,”

 

The silence stretched between them, none sure of what to say. “Show me,” Hawke said finally.

 

“Pardon?” Fenris looked up.

 

“Show me,” Hawke repeated calmly.

 

Fenris breathed deeply, shutting his eyes before nodding firmly. He slowly let his towel fall from his waist, letting it pool into a pile on the floor. Hawke tensed, getting to his feet and walking towards the elf. He kneeled down in front of Fenris, closely examining the once silvery white markings swirling along his leg and stomach.

 

Hawke noted the red had spread farther up Fenris’ torso and towards the other leg, mingling with the white like cherry juice slowly dripping and miixing into milk. “This is the reason you’ve been distant, shying away from contact and taking separate baths,”

 

Fenris nodded tersely, his face devoid of emotion apart from the tears which started trickling down his cheeks.

 

“This is all my fault,” Hawke breathed, “I never should have left you alone,”

 

“Hawke, you could never have known what would happen,”

 

“If I were a better healer…”

 

“You sell yourself short,” Fenris chuckled sadly.

 

“Oh? How so?” Hawke asked, quirking his brow.

 

“Varric told us red lyrium was lyrium that had the blight, remember? Not even the most skilled healer can cure the sickness,”

 

“The blight! Of course!” Hawke jumped to his feet, grabbing Fenris by the shoulders, “Carver, we can write to him, get him to convince the other Grey Wardens to let you go through the joining,” he said with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

 

“Garrett, I appreciate the option, but I have no wish to become a Grey Warden,”

 

“But it could be the only way to save your life, isn’t that worth it,”

 

“I have sacrificed much in my life. My family, my past, even my own happiness just to survive day to day,” Fenris cupped Hawke’s cheek, running his thumb along the scruff of his beard. “I will not sacrifice the rest of the time I have left with you, fighting darkspawn. Iwould rather die in the comfort of your arms, than in the deeproads,”

 

Hawke leaned into the touch, turning his head and placing a kiss to Fenris’ palm. “There has to be a way to save you, love. I can’t lose you, not after everything we’ve been through,” Hawke said, looking into Fenris’ eyes as tears threatened to spill from his own

 

“You said it yourself, Hawke. Red lyrium is a poison, a death sentence. I might as well be dying from the wasting,”

 

“You’ve made peace with this then?”

 

“By the void, no!!” Fenris laughed mirthlessly, “I have been cursing the Maker, Andraste and even the Creators every day since I saw the change,” Fenris sighed, letting Hawke pull him into a tight embrace.

 

“I’m going to miss this,” Fenris mumbled into Hawke’s chest.

 

“How come?” Hawke asked, kissing Fenris’ temple.

 

“Once the lyrium has spread everywhere, I’ll be a danger to anyone near me, or did you forget what happened to Bartrand?”

 

“I’m not leaving your side, Fen. Not ever again,” said Hawke, picking up the elf and laying him down on the bed where the mage pulled him closely against him and pulled the covers over them both.

 

            *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

“Can you believe it, Hawke?” said Merrill, busy dishing up a few cookies she had baked to go with their tea, “Not only did Varric meet and fight alongside the Dread Wolf, but he actually called him chuckles,”

 

“I have to admit, I imagined him with a lot more hair,” Hawke smiled.

 

“By the Creators, I had forgotten you had met him too,” Said Merrill, her eyes wide, “You always have all the fun,” she pouted. Hawke smiled sadly, focusing his eyes on his tea. “How is Fenris doing?”

 

“He spends most days in bed now. The red lyrium has spread to all of his tattoos, and it’s quite painful for him to do anything other than what’s necessary for his daily routine,” Hawke sighed, “He won’t let me near him anymore,”

 

“What?! Why?”

 

“He says he doesn’t want me to lose my mind from continuous exposure to the lyrium,”

 

“Hawke, I’m so sorry. You know I’m always here if you need anything,” quickly slipping into her room where her Eluvian stood in the corner.

 

Hawke perked up, looking at the mirror as he got up from his chair. “Merrill, back when you first showed me the mirror, you mentioned something about cleansing the corruption from it,” said Hawke, looking the little elf in the eyes, “What exactly did you mean?”

 

“You mean the Eluvian? Oh the corrupt- Now I understand,” said Merrill, a slight pink tinge playing at her cheeks, “The mirror was “infected” with the blight,”

 

“And you cleansed it?”

 

“With blood magic, yes,” Merrill looked at Hawke, anxiously bitting her lower lip.

 

“You cured the blight? Of course, how could I be so stupid?”

 

“Hold on a minute, Hawke, I can see where you’re going with this. The mirror is an inanimate object, no flesh or consciousness…”

 

“But you said it was infected with the blight, the corruption,”

 

“Yes but…”

 

“Merrill, please,” Hawke grabbed her hands, clutching them desperately, “I have to save the man I love, even if he doesn’t want me to, I at least have to try,”

 

Merrill surveyed him uncertainly for several seconds, sighing heavily as Hawke’s smile grew.

 

            *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

“Hello?” Hawke yelled out, waking over a bridge which materialised out of nowhere. Hawke hated the Fade, not that it was filled with demons who constantly sought to posess him, but the fact that nothing stayed constant.

 

“Hello, Hawke,” said a soft gentle voice.

 

Hawke turned around to see the familiar blue eyes staring at him through shaggy blonde bangs from under a large hat.

 

“Cole! It’s good to see you again, my friend,” Hawke sighed in relief. “I need your…”

 

“Strained groaning, constant moans of discomfort, red lyrium burns under his skin. He acts strong in front of me, stifling the noises of pain when I am close. Maker, what can I do? How can I help? Fenris, I am here for you,”

 

“I forgot how… intuitive you can be, Cole,” said Hawke, stifling the shudder running down his spine.

 

“You do not like it when I read your mind, it makes you uncomfortable. I apologise. I will stop now,” said Cole, crouching down to pick up a few pebbles, “You are here to ask for help with Fenris,”

 

“Yes! I need to know if there is a way to cleanse the blight from the lyrium in his markings,”

 

“You wish to do this by using blood magic,”

 

“Yes” Hawke said tersely.

 

“Is this man really worth going against everything you stand for? Knowing full well that you might die in doing so?”

 

“Yes! I would follow him into the depths of the void if he asked,” said Hawke, looking at the ground as Cole threw the pebbles on the ground, causing a rose bush to bloom.

 

Cole studied Hawke for several minutes, no doubt reading his mind… again, before nodding his head once in approval. “There is another way to save Fenris, without having to resort to blood magic and bargaining with demons,”

 

Hawke’s eyes widened as he felt his heart beating rapidly in his throat.

 

“To spirits, lyrium emits a sound, much like a music box does to you,” said Cole, disappearing behind a pillar and reappearing at Hawke’s side, “But red lyrium alters this sound, like water flowing into the little cogs and springs, it makes the song sound distorted, wrong,”

 

“I don’t understand,” Hawke pinched his brow in thought, “You’re saying red lyrium is lyrium that’s out of tune?”

 

“Yes,”

 

“But if that’s so, how does one fix it? It’s not like I can place flyers around Kirkwall asking for a lyrium tuner,”

 

“You are a mage, the Fade sings around you when you draw from it, like a choir during Winterfest, enveloping you in a cloak of song as you cast spells,”

 

“You are not making sense, I don’t have time to try and solve riddles,”

 

“You humans are always in such a closed state of mind, you do not even see what is in front of you unless it is shown,” said Cole, shaking his head, “You are the tool needed to fix the music box,”

 

“Brilliant! But, how am I supposed to do that?”

 

“By finding someone who can wield you to tune the music box,” said Cole, as he started fading into the green fog of the fade, “Say hello to Varric for me. Tell him I enjoyed the new chapter of his book very much,”

 

“Cole, wait!” Hawke cried out, but Cole was already gone. “Where am I supposed to find a lyrium tuner?”

 

“You already know someone, Spirit Healer,” said a feminine voice from behind Hawke.

 

            *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

“You’re sure this will work?” said Anders, surveying the circle of runes around the chair Fenris was sitting in. Red lyrium grew out of the markings on his neck, arms and fingers in jagged little spikes.

 

“Positive! I had Sandal draw them himself,” said Hawke

“Enchantment!” Sandal yelled happily.

 

“I rest my case,” Hawke smirked, gently cupping Fenris’ cheek, “It won’t be long now, Fen, just hang in there for a little longer,”

 

Fenris nodded groggily, head lolling to the side from the draught Anders had given him for the pain. “Make sure the abomination doesn’t blow us all up, Hawke,”

 

Hawke smiled, kissing Fenris’ hair, “Anders, you know what to do?”

 

“Justice and I are ready. Fenris will not be dying on our watch, no matter how much I wish he would,” Anders quipped.

 

“Hawke, do you really want to do this?” said Varric, putting a hand on his arm.

 

“ _It is time,”_ the female voice echoed in Hawke’s head, “There no turning back now, Varric,” said Hawke.

 

“Enchantment,” Sandal whispered, holding his finger to his lips.

 

“Do as you will,” Hawke whispered, as his eyes started glowing and gold cracks appeared on his skin. He raised his arms, igniting golden flames in his palms which broke into six even balls of light as he cast them towards the runes. The lights spread out evenly above the sigils, where they remained until Hawke started moving his arms in a circular pulling motion.

 

“ _Laat dit wat die liggaam besmet, tot nuut gaan,”_ said Hawke, his voice echoing with that of a female and his own in perfect synchronisation. Fenris tensed in the chair, mouth open in a silent scream as the golden lights started moving around him “ _Laat dit wat beskadig is, weer hernu word,”_

 

“Andraste’s flaming tits,” Varric muttered, watching as red vapour started seeping from Fenris’ mouth and get pulled into the lights.

 

 _“Laat alle korrupsie uit die vlees uit wyk en nooit weer mens of dier hinder nie,”_ Varric and Anders watched on in amazement as the lights increased speed in their rotation, drawing more of the vapour into them. The spikes protruding from Fenris’ skin, retracted as the red markings systematically returned to their original silvery white. _“In die naam van di Maker, so laat dit wees,”_

 

With the last word of the incantation, the remaining red vapour seeped into the lights as they were absorbed into the runes. _“Justice, now!”_ yelled Hawke as Fenris went into a fit, muscles spasming violently enough to cause him to slip out of the chair.

 

Anders summoned a blue energy in his palms before quickly kneeling down beside the elf and placing his hands at his head and above his heart. Fenris immediately ceased his convulsions shortly before Hawke contributed his own healing magic.

 

“He’ll be fine now,” said Anders, getting back on his feet “Whatever you did, seemed to remove all traces of red lyrium from him,” He stared at the runic circle, the runes burning with an angry molten red and orange.

 

“Don’t worry about that. Sandal knows exactly how to dispose of those properly,”

 

“Boom! Not enchantment,”

 

“Oh now I feel safe,” said Varric, “There’s never a shortage of inspiration when you’re around, Hawke. Mind telling me what that whole double voice thing was about?”

 

“I’ll tell you another time,”

 

“Bah, you’re worse than Rivainy,” said Varric, clapping Hawke on the back.

 

“One has to keep some mystery, Varric. If I told you everything you wanted to know, you might not come back,” Hawke teased.

 

“Fine, I can respect that from an author’s point of view,” Varric smiled.

 

“Oh that reminds me, Cole said to say hello and also… he liked the new chapter of the book very much,” said Hawke.

 

“I don’t believe it, the kid’s still at it. Next time you see him in the fade, tell him I said thanx. I knew he’d like the chapter with the rabbits,” Varric waved, motioning Anders to follow him, “Come on, Blondie, I’ll have Bran ready a room for you. No way am I letting you walk back to Darktown tonight,”

 

“Get him to bed, and let me know as soon as there are any problems, Hawke,” Anders adviced. Ever the worrying healer.

 

            *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

Fenris slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings before his gaze focused on Hawke, his face split into a stupid grin. He realised he was lying in bed, Hawke’ bed, and slowly rubbed his eyes. He paused when he noticed the pain, or the surprising lack of it.

 

He pulled his hand back to inspect his markings carefully, relief and happiness overwhelming him as tears welled up in his eyes at the realisation. Fenris never thought he would ever be glad to see his markings again and he soon found himself embracing the tall mage and peppering him with kisses.

 

“How is this possible?” Fenris asked in disbelief.

 

“I just had to keep Faith,” Hawke smiled, giving his husband a passionate, long overdue kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Hawke has a spirit of faith with him :P Hope you liked the story. Leave a comment to let me know ;)


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